I’m not aware of time passing until Ondine plonks a pot of tea down on the table in front of me, and asks if I want to get some fresh air.

“What time is it?”

“Just after dawn. You’ve been reading for about five hours straight.”

I can’t believe so much time has passed. I lean back in my chair and stretch my arms up over my head, and then behind me, feeling the burn of muscles kept too long in one, strained position.

“What have you been doing?” I ask Ondine.

“Also reading. But mostly I’ve been watching you, in case you zone out on me again. But you haven’t. Does that mean you haven’t found anything interesting?”

I tell Ondine about what I’ve read – a few more accounts of the Mollymawk’s exile on the isle of Alba. They’re all in the same vein, essentially tales of angst about how much he longs to return home, how frustrated he is to be called to action but unable to help anyone.

“I think there’s something important about the rocks and his wings,” I tell her, self-conscious that I'm talking about wings. “It’s almost like the rocks act as batteries, charging them up, keeping them ready for flight.”

“He flies?”

“No, that’s just it – he doesn’t, but I think he’s keeping the wings charged up just in case.”

Ondine doesn’t laugh, or make light of what I’ve just told her in any way. She’s staring at me so intensely I have the terrible feeling she’s going to ask about my back, whether I have wings, or the makings of them. Instead, she says, “The poor man – how lonely he must have been.”

I nod. “He writes a lot about birds. It’s kind of subtle, but I get the sense they were his companions. They were communicating with each other in some way, even if I’m not really clear about what was going on.”

“His kin,” Ondine says, nodding.

I nod, in agreement. “What I was hoping to find were stories further back in the chronology. You know, how did he discover his powers? What did he do to develop them? Where are the other Mollymawks?”

She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Your tattoo must be significant.”

“Birthmark,” I say, correcting her. Just for an instant the sharp, tingling sensation flares across my lower back.

“The source of all your power,” Ondine says, smiling.

“But seriously, what is its significance, other than-.” I stop, remembering the way Dr. Sidris looked at me the night I first met him, after he saw my back, like he was in on a secret about me.

“What? What is it?”

I tell Ondine about the night at Dr. Sidris’s cottage. “You need to speak to him – it sounds like he might know something about it. Makes sense – he has an encyclopedic mind.”

Just as I’m about to agree with her, I smack my hand on my forehead. “The meeting with the Dean of Studies is today!”

Ondine leans across the table, towards me. “I told you I’ll sort it out with them, and I will. This is more important. Now, what are we going to do about Sidris – drive to his house, or phone him? I’ve made an assumption here that he doesn’t do video calls.”

It’s a long drive to Dr. Sidris’s house from here, and I don’t want to ask Ondine to do any more driving on my behalf. “I’ll phone him,” I say, remembering that he often stays up through the night, working. “But it’s too early. I’ll have to wait a few hours.”

“Thom, you are far too polite,” Ondine says, scrolling through her phone. “This really can’t wait.” She stares at me, eyebrows raised, as I hear Dr. Sidris’s phone ringing. It rings and rings, and my politeness valve goes into full swing. Just as I’m telling her to hang up, I hear Dr. Sidris’s voice on the other end of the phone.

“Dr. Sidris, good morning, it’s Ondine and Thom. Apologies for phoning so early in the morning, but we have something important to ask you. He is? Is he awake? Oh sure, we’ll hold.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Eyes wide, she says, “Pendle is there. He’s coming to speak to us.” After a short wait, Ondine says, “Good morning. Yes, we are. Yes, of course, I’ll just put you on speaker.”

“Good morning to you both. I’m pleased that you phoned here. Sylvester tells me you were ringing to speak with him?”

“We were, yes. We actually wanted to speak with you, but you’d left the house on Skye before we had the chance.”

“Is everything okay?” Dr. Pendle asks.

Ondine nudges me, urging me to speak. “Everything’s fine, sir, thank you. It’s just that – something has happened, and we thought you should know about it.”

I hear murmurs on the other end of the line, then Dr. Pendle says, “Sylvester wants me to tell you that we’ve been talking about you, Thom. Not that we meant to go behind your back, mind. This is much better, if we can get it all out in the open.”

My heart’s thudding in my chest. They’ve been talking about me? Do they know?

“Thom, this isn’t ideal, I realize. We should really all be sitting together, discussing this face-to-face.”

“Wait a second,” Ondine says, “do you mean to tell us that you both know about Thom?”

“Perhaps we should let Thom tell us what he was planning to in his own words,” Dr. Pendle says.

My tongue is fat and wobbly, like it’s been stung by a bee. A gang of bees. Ondine’s shooting me an impatient look, and I shake my head, trying to get her to understand that I can’t find the right words.

“He’s a bit tongue-tied at the moment,” she tells them.

“Has something happened, Thom?” Dr. Pendle asks me, kindly. “Something you weren’t expecting to happen?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you injured?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you prevent someone from being injured?”

“I think so, sir.”

“He definitely did,” Ondine says. “The boy would have drowned.”

“You saved a boy from drowning in the loch?” Dr. Sidris asks.

“I think I did.”

“He did – no question about it.”

“How did you do it?” Dr. Pendle asks, his voice gentle.

I swallow so loudly that the sound seems to reverberate around the room. “I raised him out of the water with my hands.”

“From a distance, I should add,” Ondine says, and I register the pride in her voice, which in turn makes me feel proud, if just for a second. “He didn’t just hoist the boy out by his armpits.”

“Then you really are a Sentinel,” Dr. Sidris says, with a dreamy quality to his voice.

“Thom, this must be an unsettling time for you. Perhaps deeply so,” Dr. Pendle says gently. “Do you remember the night you first stayed at Sylvester's house?”

“My birthmark,” I say.

“Yes, I saw your mark, but I wasn’t sure then what it meant. It rang a very old, very dusty bell in my old brain. I knew I had seen the mark before, but not in which of the thousands of books I own. It took me some time to find it.”

“You knew about me?”

“Not until very recently,” Dr. Sidris says. “I hope you will forgive me for speaking with Alasdair first. I wasn’t sure how to approach it – tell you right away, or wait to see if your power asserted itself.”

“And then nature took its course, I suppose, while we were deliberating,” Dr. Pendle says.

“You know about me – about what I am?” I ask, my voice little more than a whisper.

“I know only as much as the books tell me.”

“I thought you didn’t believe,” I say, remembering Max’s words about mumbo-jumbo.

“Let’s just say I maintain a healthy skepticism. But this is different. And let’s just say that Alasdair has been aware of certain signs-.”

We hear murmuring on the other end of the line, then Dr. Pendle says, “Forgive me for not talking to you about what I observed, Thom. I didn’t want to alarm you, and I wasn’t certain what it was I was seeing.”

“What did you see, sir?”

Dr. Pendle coughs once. “The water seems to behave differently when you are around, these past few months. Ripples, bubbles, waves. I’ve never seen anything like it. And you are the common denominator.”

Ondine’s eyes are huge. “You didn’t know it was happening?”

“I really didn’t.” In my mind, I think How could I not have known?

“It always happened in the wake of your movement, as though the water was responding to your passing. At first, I told myself I must be seeing things, but then it became quite undeniable.”

My lower back tingles so intensely it’s like a thousand tiny pins being plunged into my skin. “Wow,” is all I manage.

“Thom, we know this is a lot to take in. We want to support you, however we can.”

“A good start would be cancelling the meeting with the Dean of Studies today. Thom doesn’t need the threat of academic probation right now.” Ondine winks at me.

“Of course, I’ll sort it. We’ll postpone the meeting. But Sylvester and I have another idea – someone you can talk to, a kind of mentor for you right now.”

I look at Ondine, wondering if I should tell them about how she’s been helping me. And Elena. She must read my mind, because she shakes her head once.

Dr. Pendle continues, “He’s someone I know on Skye, someone I think could be a valuable asset to you right now.”

“Okay,” I say, uncertainly.

“His name is Robbo, and he lives about an hour north of us.”

“Robbo from Skye?” Ondine asks, and for a second I think she’s about to make a joke.

“Yes, Robbo. You let me know when you’re ready to see him, and I’ll arrange it.”

We end the call, and I just sit there for a minute, dazed. “Did that really happen?”

“It did. How do you feel?”

“Strange. Embarrassed. Excited. Nervous. Angry.”

“All normal emotions, given the circumstances.” After a pause, she asks, “Do you want to leave for Skye right away?”

My nerves are jangling, but I say confidently, “No, I think we need to be here right now. There’s information we both need to find. Plus, it just feels like this is where we’re meant to be right now.”